Opar Banglar Ranna

Mejbani Mangsho

And meet my mother-in-law, T announces. The septuagenarian lady who walks out to the living room is an ...

It is pouring outside. The sky is a canvas of monochromes, dull shades of grey, punctuated by ebony, the ...

It is a time-stops-still Sunday afternoon. Lunch has just concluded, Maas lip-smacking chicken curry ...

Discover a treasure-trove of Ilish / Hilsa recipes. From Grandmom and Maas kitchen. And whenever, wherever I ...

I rattle off the steps once again in my head. Remember to marinate the meat overnight. Cook the meat. Low ...

Come the first showers and the soulless dust bowl that our backyard had degenerated to in the scorching blaze ...

Bapi chose to remain uncannily reticent whenever Dada and I quizzed him about his and Grandma's migration ...

Bapi hardly spoke of his growing up years in what is today Bangladesh. Grandma would inevitably slip into ...

One autumn evening, Bapi brings home a pair of binoculars. A childhood friend of his had been visiting and he ...

It’s a sultry summer morning, the ancient fan whirring above struggles to provide any respite from the ...

There’s a melancholy despair about Bijoya Doshomi. It’s meant to be a day of festivities and celebration, ...

The shrill of the phone punctuates the idyllic silence of a lazy afternoon. I am immersed in a book, the ...